


Thirsting

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Vampires, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:13:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22383127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Kathryn looks around her bridge.
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway
Comments: 8
Kudos: 36
Collections: Star Trek: Voyager Fanfics (T)





	Thirsting

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek: Voyager or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It comes on slowly, creeping like a virus but not contagious—there are rules to how her disease is spread, garnered once on an alien planet all the way back in the Alpha Quadrant, now quarantined—and Kathryn’s _always_ careful. She takes what she must to survive, but _only_ from the willing, and she _never_ kisses anyone on the lips when she has a mouthful of their blood. Pre-drained packs of it are so much simpler, but with only one doctor and a limit to the humans in their crew, that option’s not always available. Sometimes Kathryn needs it straight from the source.

It tastes so much _better_ from the source. The experience itself is thrilling, something to be savored, even if it always brings on guilt no matter how hard her victims beg. She’s supposed to be a _captain_ —the pinnacle of Federation morals. She’s supposed to take care of her crew, not the other way around. When she’s in the captain’s chair, she tries to focus on the viewscreen, tries to pay attention to their mission and all the little details lost out amongst the stars. 

She tries not to notice Harry Kim in her peripherals, hovering just behind her, young and sweet and always eager to serve. His pale skin is smooth, soft, tantalizing, and she knows he’d offer it if she asked. But then Tom Paris would nervously clear his throat and offer himself instead, trying to spare his friend’s innocence. And Tom’s cute enough too. She can see him working the helm before her, strong and steady, the back of his neck exposed. He’d die for her, like all of them.

A flicker of movement catches her eye—Tuvok, off by security, and wouldn’t she just love to let her fangs grow and sink down into his dark flesh. He probably wouldn’t even scream, would barely even grunt, would stay rigidly still and let her take everything she wanted. He’s never failed her once. Except his blood is the wrong colour and couldn’t sustain her. A part of her is always dying to try it anyway. Even if she has to spit his copper blood out again, even if she couldn’t swallow it, she’d still like to draw it out and feel him tremble in her arms.

Kathryn closes her eyes and catches her breath. She’s still breathing—that’s a good sign. She can feel the symptoms flaring up, but not too badly. She has to satiate them soon, but she’ll be able to return to the bridge afterwards, be able to face the pseudo-sunlight. She can’t take just anyone with her. If a sacrifice must be made, she knows it falls to her first officer. 

She shifts her hand over the small space between them and sets down on Chakotay’s arm. His eyes flicker to the touch. She gives him a little squeeze, hoping she won’t have to say it. Chakotay nods. There’s no judgment in his eyes and not a trace of fear. Maybe there’s a _little_ spark of pride and pleasure, but she doesn’t let herself dwell on that; this is an abomination, and he’ll never be able to convince her otherwise.

She’ll probably enjoy it anyway. The guilt won’t negate the rush. She murmurs, “My ready room.”

“Of course, Captain.” No hesitance at all.

Kathryn stands while she still can. She can feel her fangs protruding behind her lips and knows her eyes are turning red. She doesn’t turn to look at her chief of security when she tells him, “Tuvok, you have the bridge.”

“Yes, Captain.”

She marches for her ready room, her living blood bank hot on her heels. The rest of her crew falls into place. It’s all too easy. Behind the closed doors of her office, Chakotay still smiles, and more than anything, she’s grateful.


End file.
